Egret in a Tree

Egret in a Tree / oil on canvas / 4x12 / $88, including shipping

 

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I WONDER, EVERY YEAR, about the purpose of fruit flies. Every fall, they show up, bothersome and difficult to control. They seem to come out of nowhere. They seem to have no reason for being. I can't imagine that they make anything better. 

I have the identical thoughts, every election time, about political TV ads. 

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Dog of the Day

I hope this plays. I will also load it on YouTube, so click HERE if you can't play it right from the blog. Every morning on the walk, we take the dogs to the ball park, which is also sort of a dog park. Lulu, amazing, beautiful Lulu, races around the perimeter, just flying! Sometimes Doc goes with her, but lately, he's been staying in the infield and playing with Koko. 

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Coda

"Color is my daylong obsession, joy and torment." 

- Claude Monet

Egret

Egret / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 including shipping

This bird has flown! 

AT HOME THESE MANY MONTHS, I think of what I am not seeing. I imagine that azaleas glorified the woods near Richmond in May, and that springtime dogwoods blossomed, bright angels in the dark groves of western Virginia.

I imagine that cornflowers sang their summer songs at the edges of the roads in Pennsylvania, and that in July, hydrangeas shone blue and pink in the shady gardens of Rhode Island. 

I imagine that all my friends and all the people who usually go to the shows are safe at home, maybe a little bored, maybe a little stressed, maybe digging in their gardens and planting their own landscapes. 

I imagine that the summer has gone on, with cats sleeping in the sun on front stoops, and children learning to ride bicycles on quiet, dead-end roads. With skiers dreaming of winter, and homeowners wondering how the lawn could look greener and more lush, and everyone enjoying the sweetest peaches in years.

I imagine that even now, the West is alight with the brilliance of aspens and cottonwoods, blazing in yellow and gold along the silvery rivers and the fields of soft green sage. And in Wisdom, Montana, I imagine the snow is already shining on the mountains, and maybe even on the streets at night. 

I imagine that soon, the leaves in Maine will start to turn yellow and red, and fall from the branches. The ground will harden, the birds will fly south, and soon enough, the snow will fall there, too. 

I imagine, from the quiet safety of my little house, that the world is going on, more or less unchanged, without me. 

***

A Last Thought

Resolution

There's the thing I shouldn't do
and yet, and now I have
the rest of the day to make up for, not
undo, that can't be done
but next time, 
think more calmly,
breathe, says here's a new
morning, morning,
morning,
(though why would that 
work, it isn't even
hidden, hear it in there,
more, more, 
more?)

- Lia Purpura

Wading Egret

Wading Egret / Oil on black canvas / 5x7 / $68 includes shipping

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WALK WITH ME, and remember love, and joy, and nothing-afternoons of long, slanting sun, he day's heat gathered in the broad spaces and narrow corners of the yard. The warm evening does nothing to chase it away, but in the shadows, and along the marsh, where I walk, the breeze lifts a cool finger, touches my heart, makes me remember, makes me wish, makes me want to be whole again. 

*** 

For Today

"It's impossible to explain creativity. It's like asking a bird, 'How do you fly?' You just do." 

- Eric Jerome Dickey

Egret

Egret / Oil on black canvas / 4x4 / $48 includes shipping

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IT HAS BECOME SUMMER, here on the Eastern Shore of Virginia. In the mornings, I can smell the marsh, rich with dirt and mud, salt and decay, orchestrated by the salt air and thick humidity. When we walk, it feels like we are pushing through a curtain of moisture, the air is so damp, so sultry.

The greenhead flies have shown up and they are vicious, biting and snapping at Liesl and the dogs and me, enough that we will move our walks away from the marsh for the next couple weeks. They chase us inland, still, but not as they do along the edge of the mud. 

There will be no fireworks this year, no carnival. The huge family picnics that take place in the park every summer probably simply won't, this year. But the part-timers are here, driving faster than the rest of us, whether it's in cars or golf carts. 

And yet, as all this is happening, the days are shortening - and if you focus, you will notice. I've squandered the long lengths of the summer days this year, unable to last, with any hope or optimism, much past suppertime. But earlier in the year, I gave up earlier in the day, so that is progress, and I am grateful. 

***

For Today

River's Tale

The river flowers where I abide

   with yellow jonquils by its side

And somewhere in its broad meander

   runs roses wild and oleander

It springs down from the mountainside

   where brooklets play at seek and hide

It lazes here where flowers grow

   to swell with pride in early snow

And then to find a peaceful end

   somewhere there around the bend. 

- Guy Wilkins

From "Day Moon and other poems"

Egret

Egret / Oil on black canvas / 8x10 unframed / $98 including shipping

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STARTING FRIDAY, APRIL 3, I'M HOSTING a Spring Flower Show and Sale on my website, jacobson-arts.com.  To reach it, please click on the link, then click on the Flower Show and Sale. When you see a painting you like, click on the email associated with it, and send it to me, and I will send you an invoice, and put your painting in the mail as soon as it's dry enough! If you would like to pay in installments or by check or cash, please mention that in the email, and we will make it work! 

On Saturday at 1 p.m. on my Carrie Jacobson, Artist Facebook page, (https://www.facebook.com/carriejacobsonartist) I'll host a live painting workshop. Please either friend me on my personal Facebook page, and/or follow me on my Carrie Jacobson, Artist page, then go there on Saturday, look for and click on the the Carrie Jacobson is Live  note in your notification list, and you'll be there. 

Get set up with whatever art-making medium you like, whatever tools you have, and whatever you want to make art ON. The workshop is free, there's no need to register, and it will last about an hour. Here's the photograph we'll be using: 

Thanks to Janet Gisleson Furst Vadon for the photograph. Please feel free to print it out. 

***

For Today

"I don't ask for the meaning of the song of a bird or the rising of the sun on a misty morning. There they are, and they are beautiful." 

-Pete Hamill

Egret

Egret / Oil on black wood / about 2x5 / 

unframed with sawtooth hanger / $38 including shipping

sold

SPRING HAS HIT ME with a wave of sadness, and like so many of these waves, it was one I hadn't expected or prepared for. 

Peter loved the springtime. It was his favorite, and he reveled in it. Always, when I was in Arizona in February, he would send me photos of the daffodils blooming on the sheltered, sunny side of the house, and tell me to have heart, that spring was coming. I knew how much he looked forward to it. 

As March turned into April, he would walk around the yard, drive around town, or to Quinby Bridge, or to the store, and he would notice everything, and report it all to me. Buds on the lilac bush, a spring bird at the feeder, the Burnhams' weeping cherry blossoming in graceful splendor, the forsythia everywhere about to burst - he loved it all, and loved living in a place where spring arrived so early. 

His love of spring and his constant descriptions of it instilled a similar awareness in me, and as the chilly days climb into warmth, I find myself noticing the most minute changes, and missing him in each one. 

***

Thought for the Day

The Middle

When I remember bygone days

I think how evening follows morn;

So many I loved were not yet dead

So many I love were not yet born. 

- Ogden Nash

OK, I will quit with the Ogden Nash poems now, but I hope you've enjoyed them. He was one of my mother's favorite poets, and while purists will no doubt look upon these as doggerel, I have to say I love them, as I love any poem that makes me smile or makes me think. 

Flight - and a Great Dog of the Day

Flight

Oil on canvas, 24x24

sold

Hey, everybody, please send your good thoughts my way this weekend, as I participate in the Broad Ripple Art Fair in Indianapolis, Indiana.  Looks like we might be setting up in the rain on Friday, but I am hoping that the weather people are filled with a little more doom and gloom than is necessary. So maybe we'll be setting up in mud, but not rain, and that's OK. Heck, Woodstock was a success, and I can't think of a muddier festival! 

On a related note, and forgive me if I've related this story already... but... a couple years ago, my dad told me that his father's brother had been a hobo. A real, honest to God, rail-riding hobo. He'd gone all over this country, on trains and on foot, and had traveled to and bummed around Europe, as well. 

When he came home, irregularly and not often, to the family's house in Philadelphia, my great-grandparents wouldn't let him sleep inside. He slept on the porch and, I imagine, ate his meals there. 

He had lots of issues, including alcoholism, and he died young. And no one ever talked about him. I was 56 when I heard about him for the first time. 

But it explained a lot to me. 

Before we were married, Peter lived in the same apartment for 13 years. In the next 20 years, we moved 12 times. Some of these moves were for work - that's the way it is in newspapers, if you want to climb quickly. But some, I admit, were because I was itching to be somewhere else. 

I've promised Peter that I won't instigate a move from Wachapreague, here on the Eastern Shore of Virginia. If he wants to move, we will. But I won't start it. 

And I don't have to. This artist's life involves more driving and more traveling than I'd ever imagined. 

***

Dog of the Day

This is Bella, AKA Tomato, write Lori Rowe, my dear friend and fellow dog-lover and Red Sox fan. Bell is one of 41 Aussies rescued from a breeder in MO. Bell lived her entire 1 1/2 years in a box. Everything in the world was new for her. She was scared to death of grass and the outdoors and would seek a cement corner to hide in at first ( about a week and a half) now I have a hard time keeping her in the house. She still has a long way to go but seems to learn something everyday! I have had Bella for three weeks and three days (longer now!). She is a full blood toy aussie and is 16 pounds. She is underweight but healthy.